The mixed martial arts fighter knew the exact moment when he became convinced that QAnon was real. It was March 22, when Donald Trump held a late-afternoon briefing alongside members of the Coronavirus Task Force. That day, the president began by offering an odd digression unrelated to the ongoing pandemic.
Secret military operations were underway to liberate “young people” trapped in Peru and Honduras, Trump said. One woman—he gave no name—had been held in an unnamed country. Thanks to efforts led by Gen. Mark Milley, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the woman had already been returned to her parents. Trump described the woman as “seriously abused, accosted, and, whatever the maximum word is, other than death, that happened.” Fortunately, he said, “Milley took care of it.”
At the time, the anecdote didn’t receive much coverage. There was simply too much concern with the spread of the virus and the precarious state of the economy. But for the fighter watching at home, the president’s obscure reference to “young people” landed like a revelation.
Even though Trump hadn’t explicitly said anything about child traffickers—or trafficking of any kind, really—the fighter was sure that’s what the story was really meant to convey. For years, at the gym where he trained, he heard horror stories about the exploitation of children. The fighters, many of whom were MMA competitors like him, whispered about QAnon, the cabal of satanic, blood-consuming pedophiles who had infiltrated Hollywood, Silicon Valley and the highest reaches of the Democratic Party and the federal government. That gym, 10th Planet Jiu-Jitsu, was founded by Eddie Bravo, who has coached UFC world champions and remains an admired figure within MMA. Bravo, too, has spoken approvingly about QAnon, most famously as a guest on Joe Rogan’s wildly popular podcast.
Hearing the president’s ominous comments, the fighter redoubled his efforts, delving into subreddits and obscure forums, and tracking the enigmatic clues left by a mysterious figure known as “Q, who claimed to have high-ranking military clearance and promised Trump would vanquish the forces of evil once and for all.
“So, that’s where I was like, ‘Oh crap, this is what they were talking about and being brought slowly out to the public,’” the 10-year pro told POLITICO.
QAnon, which has been designated as a domestic terror threat by the FBI, has emerged during the past year as a central feature of the 2020 election cycle. At its apex, it boasted membership in the millions, with thousands of specific groups and pages, according to NBC News. The Guardian pegged the total at 4.5 million followers on Facebook and Instagram alone as of mid-August. (On October 6, Facebook took steps toward removing QAnon groups entirely from the site, as have other social media companies.) Self-identified adherents have run successful campaigns for Congress and garnered support from both the president, who has retweeted posts by QAnon figures repeatedly, and the Trump campaign. During an August 19news conference, Trump said, “I don’t know much about the movement other than I understand that they like me very much, which I appreciate.” (QAnon acolytes, the most devoted of whom have increasingly committed acts of violence in the name of the cause, were thrilled.)
Of all the professional sports, the fighters and promoters of UFC have been the most vocally supportive of Trump, and he has returned their ardor. But the fighters who stalk the octagon have also proven to be highly susceptible to the web of QAnon beliefs. While a handful of professionals in other sports have voiced similar anti-vaccine sentiments, fretted about child trafficking or embraced fringe QAnon-backing politicians, fighters have found a receptive audience among a young white male fan base that aligns neatly with both QAnon believers and a core group of Trump backers. This has created a mutually reinforcing loop of support between fans and fighters, the extended MAGA universe, and the White House. More than any other pro sport, MMA, and specifically UFC, has become an official and unofficial part of the president’s reelection campaign, an effort that has intensified as November 3 approaches. And when it comes to the current state of GOP politics, contact with QAnon is inevitable.
Within hours of the March 22 news conference, the fighter had shared his thoughts connecting the Trump news conference to QAnon with his over 80,000 followers across his social media accounts. (The fighter, who lives in Las Vegas and has been a top-ranked fighter in an MMA promotion, spoke on the condition of anonymity because he feared a backlash by publicly identifying as having been pro-QAnon.) The fighter posted the majority of the QAnon material on Instagram stories, which have a 24-hour lifespan and are no longer viewable. Those social media posts were a big hit among his MMA colleagues, the fighter claimed, adding that his cohorts bugged him for more information regarding the conspiracies.
Other sports leagues with more robust public relations offices might crack down on players who sully their brand by spewing thoughts untethered to reality. But UFC is run by Dana White, a longtime Trump supporter who has spoken on behalf of Trump at both of his nominating conventions. Far from stifling his front-facing talent, White has given them a green light. Last month, Colby Covington, the current No. 1-ranked UFC welterweight, used a recent postfight moment on national television to ask a Nigerian-born UFC fighter who was interviewing him if he’d sent “smoke signals” to his “little tribe,” comments widely perceived as racist. That evening, Covington, who routinely wears a “Make America Great Again” hat, received a congratulatory call from the president.
“Who’s more about free speech than we are?” White bellowed to the assembled press. “We literally let our people do or say whatever it is they do. It’s normal.”
One of the most popular UFC fighters is Jorge Masvidal, a 35-year-old star UFC welterweight from South Florida, whose parents are Cuban and Peruvian. Earlier this year, on his 674,000-follower Twitter account, he posted a screenshot of a fake Kurt Cobain quote, which purported to predict Trump’s ascendancy, and labeled it with the hashtag #qanon.
Masvidal has also fretted about pedophilia, though his concerns seem to fall along partisan lines. Last week, a photo was made public showing Trump clutching his then-preteen children while next to Jeffrey Epstein. Though minors were inches away from a serial child molester, there was no need for concern, Masvidal tweeted. However, he was all too willing to spread unfounded allegations about Hunter Biden.Specifically, that child pornography would be uncovered on his laptop—a recent QAnon and Trumpworld obsession. (Masvidal did not respond to a request for comment.)
Like many QAnon believers, Masvidal also dabbled in coronavirus truthering. In late July, as Covid-19 cases were peaking in Florida, Masvidal cast doubt on the number of deaths reported by the media. “That’s a lie. The death rates are dropping,” in Florida, he said on an ESPN podcast. (At the time, the state’s daily death rate was rising.) Despite having used the QAnon hashtag on his Cobain tweet, Masvidal denied any affiliation with the conspiracy—he just had a few questions. “I was provoking thought there. Like, ‘Hey, this is some crazy stuff. What’s going on here? Check this out,’” he said. “I’m not telling nobody to believe that word for word.”
Instead, Masvidal asked listeners harboring doubts to conduct their own investigations.
“All I’m telling everybody, anybody listening to me, do your own research, man,” he pleaded. “Do your own homework. That’s it. That’s all I’m saying.”
Travis View, a conspiracy theory researcher and host of the QAnon Anonymous podcast, told POLITICO that spurring new recruits to explore on their own is key to QAnon’s appeal. Instead of a top-down dogma, “What they relish is the feeling of insight, and the notion they’ve lifted the veil behind the veneer of society we live in,” he said.
It can be an addictive pursuit, View explained, like trying to win a game that never ends.
On October 11, Donald Trump Jr., himself no stranger to the conspiratorialonline right, hosted four rallies in Florida, hoping to energize Latino men under the age of 40, a group whose support for the president remains strong. The mini-tour was called “Fighters Against Socialism.” (The Trump campaign did not respond to a request for comment.) Who was riding alongside Don. Jr. on the bus as it made its way around the state? Jorge Masvidal.
A little over a year ago, Trump attended the World Series in Washington, D.C. He was met with a chorus of boos. Seeking a friendlier crowd, the president trekked to a UFC match held at Madison Square Garden. The response was mixed at best, but the logic behind the attempted PR coup was sound. White, the UFC president, has been a frequent presence on the campaign trail. He, along with a passel of UFC stars, attended a September rally in Nevada, one held indoors, and before a crowd not overly diligent about wearing masks. Two weeks later, Trump tested positive for Covid-19.
“Under those beautiful suits, there are a lot of muscles. A lot of power,” said Trump, praising the UFC attendees. “A lot of genius for fighting, and for other things.” Covington, who was at the Nevada rally, also showed up in person to witness the first Trump-Biden debate.
The Trump-White alliance dates back decades. At the turn of the century, when politicians were comparing MMA to cockfighting and trying to pass legislation banning it outright, Trump was a vocal champion of the sport, and frequently hosted matches at his hotels. (The UFC went so far as to bestow upon the president an honorary championship belt, and in 2018, UFC produced a fawning pro-Trump documentary called Combatant in Chief.)
When most sports went dark in March after an NBA player tested positive and Covid-19 cases exploded, White followed Trump’s lead by restarting his matches before other leagues reopened. And during the George Floyd protests, White casually suggested sending UFC fighters to serve as a private vigilante army. (Via a spokesperson, UFC declined to make White available for an interview.)
Allying with the political right hasn’t seemed to harm UFC’s bottom line. Perhaps that’s because they know their consumers. Luke Thomas has extensively covered MMA for more than a decade. He currently works as a combat sports analyst for Showtime and CBS Sports. He explained that for most of its existence, MMA was seen as a niche sport. Tracking the fighters necessarily meant doing so on the internet, largely in message boards, forums and far less moderated spaces, where they built communities of like-minded individuals. As such, the largely male, white and younger fan base grew up seeped in the kind of toxic stew where they’re prone to encounter far-right talking points and memes.
In the arenas, more diversity reigns, according to Thomas. However, the same cannot be said about the sport’s online activity, with a loud faction supporting both Trump and QAnon. There, “it just feels like you’re in a 4Chan nightmare fever swamp,” he said.
Studies bear this out. In 2018, Vox analyzed users who frequented the QAnon Reddit hub, r/thegreatawakening, and found some of the more active participants in the now-banned subreddit were also posting heavily in forums dedicated to MMA, fitness and Joe Rogan.
While certain aspects of the conspiracy aren’t necessarily partisan, someone drawn in by a seemingly benign hashtag like #SavetheChildren” will invariably encounter pro-Republican and/or explicitly pro-Trump messages. It’s worked, too. Back in March 2020, 76 percent of Americans had no idea QAnon existed, according to a Pew Research poll. Five months later, a Civiqs poll revealed 56 percent of self-identified Republicans ascribed to some aspect of the conspiracy theory, even if they aren’t wholly convinced Tom Hanks has been jailed for his imagined crimes.
Take Tito Ortiz, the former UFC champion and UFC Hall of Fame inductee. He’s currently running for a City Council seat in his hometown of Huntington, California, and pushing the false notion that Covid-19 is a man-made hoax. (His campaign’s slogan is “Make Huntington Beach Safe Again.”) In other social media posts, the former “Celebrity Apprentice” contestant directly references QAnon, referring to himself as “The Storm,” a QAnon phrase dating back to its earliest days. QAnon-emblazoned merchandise was sold on his website, but per Right Wing Watch, the items appear to have been removed. Like Ortiz, Randy Couture is an ex-UFC champion and Hall of Famer. In between posting bizarre conspiracies about a tracking chip embedded in a possible vaccine by Bill Gates or downplaying Covid-19’s lethality, he’s lobbied on behalf of Mindy Robinson, Couture’s girlfriend and a QAnon believer who ran for Congress in Nevada, finishing third in the GOP primary.
Ortiz and Couture, both of whom have been consistent Trump boosters, represent a fraction of QAnon’s infiltration into MMA’s ranks. As Karim Zidan, an MMA journalist who has extensively covered extremism in combat sports, catalogued at bloodyelbow.com, over two dozen MMA athletes, trainers and ancillary figures in combat sports have dabbled in all manner of unfounded conspiracy theories, not just QAnon. (The boundaries between Covid skeptics, anti-vaxxers, freakouts about pedophilia, antipathy toward Black Lives Matter and QAnon have become irrevocably blurred over the past eight months. This owes to the wide range of conspiracies which have taken greater root during the pandemic, and particularly in GOP circles.)
A well-known gym in Albuquerque, N.M., where high-level MMA fighters train hoisted a QAnon flag on its roof in June. (After the story broke, the gym disavowed QAnon and other extremist groups, though one of the owners has since shared misleading and false information regarding Covid-19.) Gina Carano, a retired MMA fighter and current TV and movie actor, gave credence to both Pizzagate, the precursor to QAnon, and the patently ludicrous Wayfair conspiracy, which alleged that the online retailer was secretly selling children under the guise of overpriced home furniture items. Former UFC heavyweight champion Bas Rutten wore a QAnon T-shirt in a short clip posted to Instagram. And during a match in June, a longtime UFC cutman named Don House, a close friend of Dana White, was spotted wearing a patch with the letter Q and the QAnon motto WWG1WGA, an acronym for “Where we go one, we go all.”
After the story broke, UFC officials promised it would conduct a full investigation. A source familiar with the results of UFC’s investigation told POLITICO, “a careful internal review was conducted and the matter was discussed with Mr. House, who expressed regret publicly and clarified his intentions in media reports.”
In those reports, House denied any involvement with the conspiracy, while reiterating its most recognizable credo. “I just like the message: Where we go one, we go all,” he told MMAfighting.com. He also apologized for causing any embarrassment to White, but still explicitly defended QAnon, and did so in a manner similar to the president during an October 15 town hall. “They’re trying to expose [child trafficking],” House falsely claimed. (Actual child trafficking experts have begged QAnon to stop.)
None of the above fighters responded to a request for comment prior to publication. One of the few who did was UFC bantamweight Anthony Birchak. Though he’s frequently tweeted about QAnon, he told POLITICO he’s stopped posting these days at his wife’s insistence. Birchak then declined to answer any additional questions. He now operates a 10th Planet franchise.
Bravo, the founder of 10th Planet who has a programming deal with the UFC, is a notorious peddler of conspiracies: Flat Earth theories, 9/11 truthing, the moon landing being staged, and so on. Bravo also told Vice in 2015, when it comes to his jiu-jitsu students, “I always feel a need to get everyone to see things my way—the conspiracy theory way.” (Bravo did not respond to multiple requests for comment.)
That he’d cotton to QAnon shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. Though he frequently posted QAnon videos and memes on his Instagram account, most often in the spring of 2020, Bravo had already reached a much larger audience during an appearance on The Joe Rogan Experience in January.
A nine-minute excerpted clip has been seen over 770,000 times on YouTube and thefull episode has racked up close to 4 million views. (Representatives for Rogan, who also calls UFC matches and is a prominent figure in MMA, did not respond to a request for comment.) Bravo previously gabbed about QAnon with Rogan during a podcast episode in April 2018. At the time, he wasn’t sure if the conspiracy was real. Regardless, tracking the earliest Q drops on 4chan was “addictive,” Bravo said, comparing the disinformation being doled out to watching the HBO series Game of Thrones.
By 2020, his mind had been made up. Whereas the mainstream press was constantly lying, Bravo insisted during the January podcast, “an army” of QAnon researchers were doing the noble and necessary work of ferreting out wondrous hidden truths and enlightening “patriots” on the political right.
Trump, Bravo further promised, was specifically and covertly recruited by QAnon to run for president to take on the literally demonic fiends in the all-encompassing spiritual battle being waged. (Much of Q lore and language hews to a deeply religious, evangelical-like belief system.) Were it not for Trump’s electoral triumph in 2016, his thinking goes, the world would have been plunged into apocalyptic, total war.
In contrast, Senator Joe Biden and Hillary Clinton “want another 9/11,” Bravo baselessly alleged.
“Q is real, dude. Q is real.”
The fighter who spoke to POLITICO said he’s done with QAnon for now. The various permutations of the conspiracy—the ever-changing promises and prophecies from Q which have fallen flat—have grown too arcane for him to keep up with. Instead, he’s decided to focus his attention on what’s really important: international child trafficking rings.
After all, stated rejection of QAnon or not, he remains convinced the adrenochrome harvested from kids is being ingested by the elites as a magic elixir, one which bestows both success and eternal youth.